


Crushes and Slushes

by Indee



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Bisexual Jeremy Heere, First Meetings, Gay Michael Mell, Love at First Sight, M/M, Michael and Jeremy are not childhood friends, One Shot, Slushies, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, michael loves slushies, precious boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-03 22:43:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12156303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indee/pseuds/Indee
Summary: Michael has a different slushie flavor for every day of the week.





	Crushes and Slushes

**Author's Note:**

> As compensation for the ungodly amount of time Dark Origins has gone without an update (I'm writing, I promise! It just takes a while.), I have made this piece of sweet, sweet Boyfs fluff. Enjoy~

Today is Monday.  
That means a trip to the Seven-Eleven down the street. It also means today was Blue Raspberry day.  
Michael has a routine; Tuesday is Wild Cherry, a bland, unimportant day with a flavor to match. Wednesday is Sour Apple, sour-yet-sweet like the feeling of being halfway done with another week. Thursday is Berry Blast, solely because Michael likes it least of all the flavors at the store, and Thursday sucks too. Friday is a free day, where Michael can choose any flavor. Saturday is Vanilla Ice-Cream, an almost lazy, flavorless taste like twenty four hours of total freedom. Sunday is Piña Colada, a send-off to the weekend.  
Monday is Blue Raspberry. Michael's favorite flavor, reserved for making a horrible day a little better. Nothing like Blue Raspberry slushies to ease the sting of returning to ~~hell~~ high school.  
He pulls his worn PT Cruiser into a parking spot close, but not too close, to the front door. He wouldn't want to seem to eager to get inside, only to buy a slushie and nothing else. That would make everyone think he was a slob itching for his next fix of cold, delicious sugar. But if he parked far away, he'd have to walk to the door and Michael couldn't stand the idea of so many pairs of eye on him, seeking for any little flaw, judging every inch of him--  
_Breathe, Mell,_ he reminds himself. _Just go get your slushie._  
Michael shuts the car door gingerly, not wanting to damage his Cruiser any further. Tucking the keys into his hoodie pocket, he speed-walks to the front door, his breath clouding in front of his face. Michael welcomes the lukewarm air in the Seven-Eleven, tinted with the scent of cleaner and fried food. Michael glances around the store; nobody is there but a dead-inside cashier and a someone in a blue sweater, turned away from him in one of the aisles. He makes a beeline for the slushie machine in the back of the store.  
The countertop is sticky from spilled slush, but Michael doesn't care; it is _beautiful_ , a ray of light in this dreary existence, a shining beacon of sugary hope-- Okay, he's spent way too long just standing there, and Sweater-Guy is coming this way. Michael takes one of the paper cups, the largest size they have, and begins to fill it to the top. A thick, glorious river of blue ice flows from the machine. He's almost done when someone taps him on the shoulder.  
Michael jerks wildly, his hand spasming and blue slush hitting the front of his hoodie. Michael groans as the cold seeps through. Damn, and he's _just_ washed this thing!  
"O-oh my God, I'm s-so sorry!" The person who had tapped him stammers, and Michael makes the terrible, terrible mistake of looking up at them.  
They're gorgeous, more lovely than a Bob Marley song or old video games or even Blue Raspberry slushies. A controlled mess of wavy brown hair flops over gray-blue eyes. His skin is fair, with red creeping up his neck and cheeks. Even though his expression reads 'mortified', he looks like an angel.  
Michael falls irrevocably and utterly in love with the sight of him at that moment. The blue liquid dripping down his chest is forgotten for the sight of this wonderful stranger.  
The only thing he can say is, "It's okay. Y-youre... good. Fine." Michael swallows thickly. "Really fine."  
The stranger laughs, nervously. Michael thinks it might have been compulsive instead of because of something Michael said. "W-well... that's good. You're good-- Oh, shit, I mean--!" He groans and runs a hand over his face. "It's been a long day."  
"It's eight in the morning."  
"On a _Monday_."  
"Fair point," Michael concedes. "Anyway-- Oh, are you here to..." He gestures over his shoulder at the slushie machine. The stranger looks confused for a moment, then shakes their head.  
"Oh! No, no, I just wanted to, um..." He rubs his shoulder avoiding Michael's eyes, though Michael himself is currently studying the finer details of this boy's torso and hips. Not that he needs to know that. "Your patches!" The boy bursts out suddenly. Michael's head snaps up to look at him. "Y-your patches. Cool. They're cool. I like them."  
Michael feels his face-- no, his whole _body_ heat up. He stammers out, "Th-thank you! I'm really, uh, glad you like me-- them! I mean, them, not me." God, he's just making this worse. "I, uh, gotta go, but I'll see you around!" His voice gets a couple octaves higher than he would've liked on that last part, but the stranger smiles.  
"Yeah, I'll be keeping an eye out for cool dudes in hoodies from now!"  
Michael blushes a shade or so deeper and heads for the door, Blue Raspberry still clenched in his hand. He's nearly to the door when he stops and calls out, "Hey! What's your name!"  
The stranger starts, then turns a little pink. "I-I'm Jeremy. Jeremy Heere."  
"See ya around, Jeremy," Michael says warmly before leaving the store. The cold air can't even begin to put a damper on the warmth in his chest.  
Maybe Blue Raspberry could be a flavor for good days, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it, I certainly enjoyed writing this little one-shot!


End file.
